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Title: Departures IV Summary: The surprise of Kestrel's existence effects everyone in the Mulder-Scully family.
Mulder-Scully Household "I need you to come to my mother's house," are the first words Mulder says when I answer the phone. Not even a typical 'Scully, it's me.' Something must be wrong. "Mulder, where in the hell have you been?" I ask. It has been three days since his last phone call from some place called Carrot Creek. By the time the call could be traced and Reid could fly out there, Mulder was gone. All that was left behind was a bill for two rooms and a description of the person he was traveling with. A girl with long brown hair. "I will tell you everything as soon as you get here," he says and I can hear Mrs. Mulder talking to someone in the background. "Did you find her? Did you find Samantha?" I ask excitedly. And if he did, why doesn't he sound happier? "Mulder, what is wrong with her?" "Scully, just come here. Bring Christopher and come here," he says one last time. Neither of us says anything for a few seconds. He offers no more explanations. And I know he won't until I get there. "Mulder ..." "Please, Scully. I thought this would be easier here. I need you to do this for me. To come up here today," he pleads. In typical Mulder fashion, he doesn't ask how I am. Or how Christopher is. Or ask me what it was like being pregnant and running all over the countryside looking for him. "I'll be there as soon as I can," I say as I hang up on him. Damn. Now what has he gotten himself involved in? Teena Mulder's House "You should have told her, Fox," my mother says, chiding me right away. What else did I really expect in coming here? "It will be easier once she is here," I say. Kessie is sitting in Mom's living room, looking through old photo albums, trying to figure out her place in the world. Mom watches Kessie silently and I know what she is thinking. She has more than a passing resemblance to Samantha. I know it even though we never saw Samantha at that age. She was long gone before eleven. "Fox, how could you not know? Surely you must have suspected something?" she asks. Kessie slowly flips another page of the sad testament to the Mulder family history and she giggles at something. She looks at me before looking back at the picture. God only knows which one it is that Mom chose to stick in there. I can hardly wait until she pulls out the home movies. "I didn't come here for a lecture. I came here because I thought it would the best thing for Kessie. And for Scully. I know it is probably a mistake, but I wasn't ready to go home yet," I say. She looks at me through narrowed lids, wanting to tell me that I fucked up again. How dare she accuse me of living in ignorant bliss. This isn't my fault. All these years, she has known about Samantha and lived with it. Lived with the guilt of knowing. Yet she deems herself in a position to judge me. My mother stirs and stirs the hot tea in front of her. I haven't told her everything yet. I skipped the part about Samantha not being 'genetically' correct for the colonizing forces. If I am and she isn't, one of our parents must be different, and I think it is pretty damn easy to guess which one. "Mom, who is Samantha's father?" I ask without an iota of emotion in my voice. She will probably slap me for asking this, but I've got to know. Her hand finally stops moving above that steaming tea. She holds it there as if she has been frozen by my words. She has to acknowledge me one of these days. I am no longer a child undeserving of answers. "Fox William Mulder, you know very well who is her father. You both have the same father and I detest it every time you enter this line of questioning. Damn it, Fox! Why can't you just believe me?" she asks. Her voice is full of emotion but most of it is created simply for the moment. Her eyes betray her words. She is well aware of the fact that I know the truth on this one now. As much as I want to deny it, it just is. "I've heard too many things to believe that anymore. Samantha was part of a similar project as Kessie. Dad allowed them to take her so she would be safe. Because he knew that someday, there would be no way he could guarantee her safety. He did it for you, Mom! Because he knew how much you loved this other person. How much you loved her because of it!" I say, my voice becoming loud enough for Kessie to notice. She shuts the photo album and stares out of the window, pretending not to hear. "Don't you dare! Don't you raise your voice to me. You are no better than I am. Look at that little girl. You trusted her mother so much that she could do this behind your back and you didn't even bat an eyelash. She gave away your child for the same reasons we gave away Samantha. I know how she felt. She had no other choice. They gave her no other choice. And there is no distance a mother won't go to protect her child," she says to me, anger punctuating every last word. "I guess it just depends on the child, right? Samantha was worthy of your protection. I never was. Do you know what that feels like?" I say, just as angry as she is. "Oh, Fox. Grow up. Soon, you are going to know what it is like to raise children born of two different people. One person whom you love. One whom you don't. A person that you aren't sure you ever loved. You are going to see just how damn hard it is to be impartial. To not be drawn to one child more than the other. You'll see. And I hope this whole mess blows up in your face someday," she says. "Never. I will never treat any of my children the way you treated me," I shout at her. She stands up and walks out of the kitchen, leaving her tea behind. I hear the door to the garden slam shut as she stomps out of the house. So much for all the mother-son progress we had made. Fucking blown away in one afternoon. I try very hard to unclench my jaw, so I can say something, but it isn't working. I did manage to unclench my fists and my hands now hang passively at each side. They are trembling, but at least I don't look like I'm going to punch someone. Though God knows I would like to. "Jasper ... in a mountain. Canada ..." I finally manage to say, repeating key elements of his story. I have yet to work to the words 'Diana' and 'child' into his tale yet. I look out the French doors. Mrs. Mulder has Christopher on her lap while ... the girl ... watches and plays with him, tickling his toes and making him giggle. Damn it. She looks just like her mother. She is pale with dark hair and dark eyes. There is no way she could be considered mine by a casual on-looker. She looks as if she has never seen the sun, and if Mulder's story is true, that would have been the case until he took her out of this 'place' he keeps talking about. But my mind keeps coming back one thing. The bitch pulled this off without him having a damn clue. He trusted her that much. He always did. "Scully, I didn't know," Mulder says one more time. If he says it again, I might have to ball up my hands into fists again and sock him in the jaw. "How could you not know? Where in the hell were you when she was supposedly miscarrying that child? How in the hell did she pull this one past you? Oh, never mind. I know the answer to that. You trusted her. She never lied to you before, right? She had no reason to lie," I say to him loudly. Good thing Christopher is out of the house. He doesn't need to hear this. Neither does the girl. "How in the hell was I supposed to know? It isn't like I'm her mother and *should* know about her existence," he says, and I can feel the tears spring to my eyes. "Don't you fucking dare, Mulder. Don't you assume that I should have known about Emily," I shout at him. Son of a bitch. That one hurt and he knows it. "But what if more Emilys show up? They will be your child, but not mine. Does that mean we wouldn't take them in?" he asks me, still using Emily for his own purposes. "It isn't the same, Mulder. Emily was 'manufactured' without my knowledge. I'm sure you were quite aware when this child was made," I say. He just stands before me, without anything to say now. He looks tired. And confused. Goddamn him for doing this now. But he is right. If she were mine, I would have brought her home, too. But Emily didn't have a father that he detested. Or maybe he simply detests the fact that she ever existed. That I had something without him. Almost gave it all up for something that had nothing to do with him. "Scully, I didn't know what to do. The only thing I could think was I couldn't leave her there. She needs a family. I'm her family, whether you like it or not," he says to me, his voice calm and even. "How, Mulder? How did she pull this one past you for all those years?" I ask him. He always trusted that woman. Right until the end when he went plowing up the Sandia Mountains with her. She could lie about me. About what she was. About who she was working for. It didn't matter. He believed her lies. And he believed this one, too. "I don't know, Scully. I came back from an out of town assignment one day to find Diana crying in the dark. She told me she lost the baby. How was I supposed to know she was lying? Everything seemed to fit the story," he says, defending her once again. I can just see her cowering in a dark corner, manipulating him with a lie. The worst of lies. She was the best at lying. Maybe she isn't even dead. Maybe that is one of her lies, too. Once again, I stare out the door at both children. She smiles easily, although I sensed a trace of apprehension when I first arrived. She could sense how I felt right away. Sense the friction between me and her ... father. Oh, God. What am I supposed to say to a preadolescent girl I don't know? She will live with us. She will be my child as much as she is his. That is how it is going to have to work. What if Diana's family wants her? Is that an option? She stands, picks Chris up and carries him into Mrs. Mulder's summer garden. She is at ease in any situation. Carries herself well. Like her damn mother. So smooth. So easy. Damn it, Dana. She isn't her mother. She never knew her mother. She is as much Mulder as she is Diana. Mulder comes up behind me and puts his arms around me, placing his hands on my abdomen. Over *our* daughter. He doesn't even know about the tests I went through while he was gone. My mother sat with me, holding my hand, while I was poked and prodded. Dylan didn't lie. It is a girl. Just not Mulder's first. "Where is she going to sleep?" she asks as I drive. It is the first thing she has said in the last hour. The kids are asleep in the back seat. Chris in his carseat. Kessie has her head against the side of his seat, her hands folded neatly on her lap. "In the guest room for a while. We have a four bedroom house. I will clear out my study and you can make it the nursery for the baby," I tell her. I don't need the room. When in the hell am I ever going to have time to use it? "I'll give up the lease on the apartment. That is a waste of money that we will be needing elsewhere now." I'm sure right now she would love to tell me to take this kid and just go back to that place, but I know she won't. As much as she would like to, since it concerns a child, she will keep her anger in check in their presence. "Shoes? Braces? Cars? Prom dresses? College? Weddings?" she asks, as if listing out all the expenses will make me change my mind about Kestrel and I'll drop her back off in Canada. "I have enough money put away to send them all to a nice, little community college, you know, unless the end of civilization as we know it comes before then. We can always hope that will be the case," I say and she smiles a slight, nearly imperceptible smile. For the first time today. "And the baby ..." "It is a girl," she says softly. Shit. I forgot all about the doctor's appointments when I ran off on this expedition. Forgot I was supposed to be there. I seem to have fucked up everything today. Not just little fuck ups, either. Big, life altering fuck ups. "Is she okay?" I ask, already knowing the answer is yes. She has to be. They saw to that. "According to the various tests they performed, she is perfect," Scully says. I catch her looking into the mirror we have set up to keep an eye on Christopher. But I know what she is really looking at. "How could anybody give away their child to something like you described?" "Scully, I don't know. And the only person I could ask is dead. I don't know her true motivations. I can only hope she was sincerely concerned about her. That this was her only option," I tell her, hoping beyond hope that this is the case. "What if there was something else? Something we don't know about yet?" she asks, still staring back in that mirror. "What am I supposed to do, Scully? Put her back there because of what her mother was or did? That would make me no better than Diana in a way. This isn't going to be easy. She's never had a home. Hell, she never saw daylight until a few days ago. And God only knows what they have taught her," I say, sighing. I know what Scully is trying to say. She doesn't want this child to ruin what we have. That would be Diana's best vengeance for not always getting what she wanted. But could she have known eleven years ago that someday it would come to this? Was someone telling her the future? We were married. We had a home and something of a life together. Neurotic and dysfunctional as it was, it was still a life. Yet, she chose to leave me. To leave this child somewhere to be raised by strangers. I can't put all the little pieces together. She is supposed to destroy us. Change the future. But no one says how. If she was going to destroy the future, why didn't they just destroy her? Scully suddenly turns to look out the window. I look in the rear view mirror and see why. Kestrel is now awake and silently watching us. The End
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